


Fantastic Vignettes

by shannsleeve



Series: The Case, The Bakery, & the Apartment - Fantastic Beasts Ficlets [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Jakweenie, Multi, headcanons, newtina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannsleeve/pseuds/shannsleeve
Summary: Based on original headcanons and prompts regarding the lives of Newton Scamander, Porpentina Goldstein, Queenie Goldstein, and Jacob Kowalski.





	1. I: The Witch's Mark

Tina’s stories of the Second Salmers’ orphans broke Queenie’s heart; therefore, she was sure it must’ve been Fate that brought one of them across her path. He stumbled into Jacob’s bakery, tears streaming down his face, a scrawny boy, no older than ten, with what looked like a black smudge across his right cheek. Without hesitation, she knelt before him, a cream-filled Niffler pastry in hand.

An hour later, he was giggling with her over a tray of jelly-filled doughnuts. Two hours later, they hid behind the counter stifling more laughter until Jacob walked by, calling out for them. Three hours later, Jacob, Queenie, and the boy were covered in flour and icing, newly made Demiguise pastries arranged before them like toy soldiers.

Queenie heard the boy’s fears as night drew closer - no place to rest his head and shame for the mark he bore - ‘The Witch’s Mark.’ She scoffed at the name and told him ‘beautiful’ was far more accurate a term. Jacob smiled, took the boy’s hand, and offered him a bed and a hearth behind the bakery. All he needed in return was help tasting new recipes. Neither the baker nor the witch had ever seen one so small laugh and cry in turn so much.


	2. II: Newton's First Work

Young Newton Scamander was quite well-versed in the care and treatment of hippogriffs, if he did say so himself. Every morning he visited his friend, Abraxas, in the stables and made sure he had enough feed, a long walk, and constant, undeniable love and affection. In fact, Newton was so certain of his care-taking abilities that he believed it was time to put his knowledge to paper. After several days of furious scribbling and editing, he emerged from his room covered in ink, triumphantly holding aloft a 10-page work titled, ‘A Daily Inquiry into the Life of Abraxas the Hippogriff.’  
  
More than a decade later, on a rather trying day spent working on his manuscript, Newt stumbled upon his very first written piece. His heart swelled with pride as he flipped through the pages. He recalled his excitement at showing the family his newest edition for the Scamander library, and his determination to create enough works to fill a whole shelf. Little Newton refused to be hindered by adversity and, instead, powered through until his goal was accomplished. Perhaps, Newt surmised, his younger self had the right idea. With newfound conviction, he drew his pen and resumed editing the final chapter of ‘Fantastic Beasts.’


	3. III: Queenie's Vow

Queenie Goldstein first learned to sew at her mother’s knee. Every afternoon, she watched yards of chiffon and silk transform into beautiful scarves and dresses through the work of ancient magic and gentle hands. Mrs. Goldstein was thrilled to share her most closely guarded secrets with her daughter; however, before Queenie’s tutelage began, a vow needed to be made, lest the magic of the craft be forever lost.

Tina scoffed at her sister’s tale. Such simple magic couldn’t possibly require a vow of all things. Queenie only smiled as she summoned an old silver needle. How else would each thread remain as vibrant as the first day it was dyed? With unerring skill, she secured a foot of lace trim to the bodice of her newest creation. The ancient magic flowed through her veins with every stitch as her fingers flew deftly across the fabric. Only her great-grandmother’s needle could solidify the beauty and craftsmanship of her ancestors. Her vow fulfilled, Queenie dressed the nearby mannequin and turned to her sister, measuring tape in hand. A few final adjustments couldn’t hurt.


	4. IV: Porpentina's Musings

As a girl, Porpentina’s pillow and duvets were always covered in candle wax and stained with ink. Tomes filled with fairy tales and magical knowledge surrounded her bed, often creating a labyrinth which her parents and sister carefully navigated to kiss her goodnight. She read late into the night, hoarding candles and self-inking quills beneath her covers. She jotted notes in the margins of her favorite passages and sketched mythical beasts and characters upon the title pages. She would lay awake, candles burned low and books scattered across the floor, dreaming of the places she’d read about, the creatures she’d met, the bonds she’d crafted with heroes and heroines. Perhaps, she mused, she’d have the chance to be a heroine one day.

As she raced through the case of beasts, Tina couldn’t contain a bout of boisterous laughter. Her fiance turned at the sound, a question in his eyes. She did not reply but ducked behind the still empty Thunderbird enclosure. Newt, thoroughly perplexed by his love’s behavior, approached her carefully. Tina covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle more giggles. How could she explain the joy that flowed through her veins? She had become adoptive mother to a plethora of magical creatures and continued to fight for what she believed to be right. Suddenly, she felt her feet leave the ground and a comforting pair of arms encircle her waist. Ah yes, and how could she forget the final, unexpected piece of her happiness?


	5. V: Jacob's First Great Love

Jacob Kowalski loved oranges - the smell, the taste, the very sight of the fruit - because their presence could only mean one thing: Grandmama’s paczkis were in the house. He raced down the stairs, nearly falling flat on his face as he stumbled over the last step into the kitchen. The moment he stepped in, he entered a new world, one filled with warmth and comfort and every joy in between. He found her hunched over a tray of freshly baked treats, flour on her hands and a scintillating smile on her face. 

They spent hours at a time creating and tasting new recipes. The windows would shake with their laughter. The two were as thick as thieves, as his mother would say, and were inseparable whenever his grandmother came to call. She wished him well on his first day as an apprentice at a nearby patisserie. She sobbed bitterly as he waved from the steamer to France. She welcomed him with crushing embraces and embarrassing kisses upon his return, and pampered him until he could hardly believe he’d spent so many years in the trenches. He often jokingly referred to her as his ‘first great love.’ Then, on the day of her death, he realized that he meant every word with all his heart.  
  
For the first time in several years, Jacob stood before his grandmother’s resting place, tears coursing down his cheeks. He furiously wiped them away as dainty hands enveloped his free one. Queenie didn’t say a word as he turned to her. She brought her cheek close to his, until his tears slowed, and gently whispered a spell. To Jacob’s surprise, a bouquet of orange blossoms appeared in his arms, filling the air with their sweetness. With Queenie’s guidance, he laid the blooms gently upon Grandmama Kowalski’s grave. It was then that he acknowledged his greatest regret - his first love would never meet his last.


	6. VI: The Duty of an Auror

The duty of an Auror was not an easy burden to bear. Tina Goldstein adored her job and the good she brought to the Wizarding World at large, but, on some days, she greatly reconsidered her career choice. The tedious hours of research on dead-end cases; the constant, week-long raids on blackmarket establishments; the condescending looks and misogynistic grumblings of her male counterparts -- they all took their toll. She did her best to take it all in stride, to hold her head high, and rise above. As she ascended in rank, all the petty comments and long nights were no longer of issue. She wasn't easily frightened and never showed emotion, especially pain, in the field. Thus, she was caught completely offguard the night she met the Barebone family.

Credence was the youngest victim she'd ever come across. Rage was not strong enough a word to describe what she felt as she watched Mary Lou beat the boy within an inch of consciousness. In the blink of an eye, the belt flew through the air and Tina was a heartbeat away from cursing the woman into oblivion. It was his plea that stopped her. He begged for mercy, he implored her to spare his mother's life. It was his fault, he cried, his selfishness that brought upon the punishment he deserved. Her choice sealed both their fates.

On a cold, windy night, alone on the fire escape, Tina thought of him. She wondered if he was safe and unharmed, if he was warm and well-fed. More than anything, she prayed he would find happiness, true, unbridled joy. As her prayer rose into the night sky, she felt her heartache. As an orphan, she truly missed her parents and their kindness. As a beloved child, she was humbled by the significant lack of love Credence received from his guardian. She couldn't fathom how such hatred for a child could exist. Looking down at the streets below, the witch was reminded of how small New York City actually was. It was entirely possible that she could see the boy again; therefore, Tina promised that, if their paths crossed, she would continue to protect him. Her demotion be damned.


	7. VII: Morning Coffee

There was so much you could learn from someone’s morning cup of coffee. Every morning, Queenie assembled a tray for the Major Investigative Division complete with blueberry muffins, a bowl of sugar, a pitcher of milk, and a small array of mugs. Each Auror submitted their preferred drink at the start of their tenure and it was Queenie’s task to fill the orders. In fact, she had the practice down to an art. 

Mr. Graves enjoyed a steaming, tall cup of the smoothest Arabian blend with two sugars. Just like him, she mused, no nonsense, straight to the point. Mr. Abernathy liked a warm mug of French press with just the slightest hint of caramel. Queenie stifled a giggle. Sometimes his sweetness was a little much but he meant well. Mr. Frazer requested a latte that was more foam than coffee with just a drizzle of chocolate fudge. She couldn’t blame him; MACUSA had quite a lovely recipe for house fudge, and Frazer’s sweet tooth was the office’s worst kept secret. And, last but not least, was Miss Goldstein’s mug.

The familiar clack of heels on the marble floor roused Tina from her research induced stupor. A broad smile graced her lips as she made eye contact with her sister. Queenie placed a rather large cup of coffee before her, winking as she sauntered away. A tad flummoxed, Tina stared down at her cup and noticed a slip of paper beneath it. She extracted it, took a burning sip of the drink, and sighed contentedly as she read the note in Queenie’s looping hand – ‘Lunch at noon. Don’t be late. Love ya!’


	8. VIII: An Intimate Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @imnothattypeofdoctor based on this gifset by @hardyness: http://hardyness.tumblr.com/post/157871509717/fantastic-beasts-and-where-to-find-them-queenie

Queenie and Jacob skidded to a halt behind Newt and Tina, panting for breath. For the past two hours the foursome had raced through the streets of New York, tracking Newt’s final creature. They stood side by side before the storefront of the Macy’s Department Store, utterly confused as to why a Demiguise would choose such a conspicuous place to hide.

Newt shuffled closer to the grand doors, muttering a Tracking spell. A bright blue light began to glow from the tip of his wand, confirming their quarry was inside. He glanced at Tina who drew her wand and moved closer to him. As the witch and the magizoologist bent their heads over the store’s intricate locks, Queenie felt Jacob’s curiousity. She knew the question before he had the chance to breathe life into it, and Legilimency had very little to do with her knowledge.

Jacob knew that look; every man in love made the same one. Well, maybe not  _in_ love…at least, not yet. It was funny to see the doe-eyed, lovesick look on someone else. And, he had to admit, Newt looked pretty great wearing it. As his gaze met Queenie’s, he realized he wasn’t alone in his observations. With a cunning grin, she pressed a finger to her lips. It wouldn’t do to spoil the secret before they could acknowledge it. Jacob couldn’t resist smiling at the beautiful witch in turn. The poor souls really had no idea what they were falling into.

With a resounding ‘Aha!,’ the wizard shoved open the doors to reveal a glittering wonderland of Christmas cheer. He and Tina bolted through as they spotted movement in the far corner of the first floor. Queenie and Jacob, on the other hand, slunk inside, hand-in-hand, stifling conspiratorial giggles. Perhaps Newt and Tina weren’t the only ones joined in an intimate secret.


	9. IX: The Promise

In one hour’s time, Newt was due to board the steamer to England. He hadn’t quite sorted out his feelings about the journey. In many ways, he was happy to be returning home. His heart swelled at the thought of his library, his hearth, his favorite teapot and slippers. And yet, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving America behind. The city was far more exciting than he’d expected and the people far kinder than he’d ever met before. 

The whistle of the kettle roused him from his thoughts and, with a sigh, he made his way to the dining table. He didn’t expect her to already be seated in the farthest chair. Wordlessly, he placed the mug he’d poured before her. Queenie offered him a half-hearted smile and took a sip.

Two weeks ago, the Memory Rain had fallen. Since then, she’d been filled with guilt and grief, but not just her own. Newt sat down across from her and they shared a pained glance. They missed him terribly. Of all the non-magical folk in the world, Jacob Kowalski was the last person who should’ve been Obliviated. Queenie believed he had more respect for the practice of magic than any well-trained witch or wizard. Newt was convinced he could be a true friend and ambassador for endangered magical creatures, and, frankly, for himself as well. 

Sensing one another’s thoughts, the witch and wizard shared another aching look. She placed her hand at the center of the table. After a moment’s hesitation, Newt did the same, gently maneuvering his hand until her palm rested in his. He squeezed lightly, a promise. She squeezed back, an affirmation. 

Tina quietly stepped into the room with the case of beasts in one hand and her coat in the other. She noticed both her sister’s and the magizoologist’s tears, feeling their grief as well as her own. They turned to her slowly, releasing their grip as they did so. She approached them cautiously and reached for their hands. She grasped them tightly and, with an Auror’s conviction, vocalized their promise. After a few moments, she finally let go as her companions stood. It was time to make their way to the harbor. Newt entered Queenie’s embrace and accepted a chaste kiss on the cheek. As he stood by her side, Tina handed him the case, a reassuring smile on her lips. If there was one thing he knew, it was that someday, somewhere, they would all be reunited and he was more than willing to wait.


	10. X: The Children's Ward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1

Twice a month, the Goldstein sisters rose before the sun. They dressed in darkness and used memory to guide them through the apartment. Queenie prepared a thermos of coffee while Tina arranged sandwiches and muffins in a small basket. Together, they walked to the Apparation point a few blocks away from their apartment. They appeared at the steps of an old Victorian house on the outskirts of the city.

7:00AM - The harsh smell of sterilizing potions stung their noses as they entered St. Augustine’s children’s ward. They greeted the witch seated at the front desk, wished one another a good day, and promised to meet in the same place for lunch. Queenie disappeared through a door on the left, charming her hair into a low bun as she did so. Tina pulled a self-inking quill from her pocket and slid it into place behind her ear. She pushed open a door to her right and stepped through.


	11. X: The Children's Ward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2

7:30AM - Babies were so fascinating, Queenie mused, as she quietly stepped between the rows of bassinets. They were the future of the Wizarding World, of magic itself, and all of them were completely ignorant of the power they possessed. What a large burden to bear for ones so young. A piercing cry interrupted her thoughts and she hurried to the farthest corner of the room.

The babe was swaddled in a pale lavender blanket embroidered with white roses. As a precaution, she cast a simple diagnostic spell to see if anything was amiss. A glowing green light confirmed that the child was in good health. She reached into the bassinet, lifted the babe, and cradled it to her chest. Immediately, the crying ceased. Queenie smiled down at her charge in response. Cuddles were always the best cure for nightmares. Indeed, she could see the last vestiges of the child’s fears fading into the warm embrace of sleep. Almost without a thought she began to hum a soft, lilting lullaby that her mother used to sing. She wondered if the little one liked to dance, after all, it was far better to learn earlier rather than later. She began with a step to the left, then a step backward, pausing only to see if the child fussed at the movement. When the babe remained still, she continued to hum, all the while following the pattern of a Viennese waltz.   

8:30AM - The morning sun streamed through the windows as Tina finished arranging the furniture in the room. Small islands consisting of four desks each stood ready to receive their occupants - a group of bright-eyed children no older than ten, the regular inhabitants of the Terminal Disease ward. A knock at the door alerted her to their arrival. She opened it and was nearly trampled by her charges, all excited to see her and asking a million questions all at once. She pressed a finger to her lips and ushered them to their seats. Wordlessly, she summoned piles of parchment, a dozen self-inking quills, and a few sets of watercolor paints for each table. It was a delight to see the children glow with even more excitement as she began.

Art therapy was a fairly new addition to St. Augustine’s curriculum, but with Tina’s guidance and skill, the children blossomed during their group sessions. Today, Miss Goldstein asked them to design their ‘safe, happy places’ using all resources available. Sketches of glittering castles and woodland cottages were scattered across the floor. Architectural masterpieces floated in the sky or hung above the ocean emerged upon the tabletops. Tina praised and loved them all as she animated them with her magic. Each sketch seemed to come alive which inspired cries of joy and, for some, grief as the artists looked on. The witch embraced those who wept and smiled with those who laughed.  

10:00AM - Coffee break. 

12:30PM - The sisters collapsed onto the worn, rickety couch in the break room, both utterly spent, yet completely satisfied. Queenie unscrewed the thermos and poured two cups of steaming coffee. Tina unpacked the basket, setting one sandwich and one muffin next to each cup. They shared tired smiles and raised their mugs in salute to another year following in their mother’s footsteps. 


	12. XI: Procrastination

Tina hated writing reports. 

She understood that doing so was part of her job description (and stipulated in the contract she signed) but she absolutely  _hated_  recounting raid after raid on paper. She could say, with much confidence, that Procrastination was her best friend at the Major Investigative Department. They spent hours lounging in her desk chair while staring at the ceiling, trying to count how many paper crane memos flew by in the span of three minutes. Sometimes she balanced self-inking quills on the tip of her nose while Procrastination timed her. (Just for reference, her record is 6 minutes and 28 seconds). Occasionally, she feigned sending memos or visiting the ladies’ room so that she could sneak bites of the snacks she hid around the office. (There’s a box of Chocolate Frogs behind the employee handbook on the 4th shelf near Mr. Graves’s desk). Unfortunately, those damned reports needed to be completed by day’s end; so she was forced to reluctantly send Procrastination away and down another cup of coffee, unfinished report in hand.

Today, no matter how hard she tried to focus, Tina couldn’t finish writing more than a page. With a groan, she dropped her head to the desk, nearly spilling a pot of sealing wax. For the next few moments, she contemplated dozing off or, better yet, taking a page from Queenie’s book and claiming she felt ill. The sound of heavy footsteps roused her from her stupor. She glanced up, hardly caring who it could be, A fierce blush colored her cheeks as a familiar, scratchy scarf brushed against her nose.

Newt had just returned from his final meeting with President Picquery before returning to England. He thought a quick lunch with his favorite--er--good friend Tina would be much appreciated. He hadn’t expected to rouse her from a nap. She vehemently denied such an accusation while Newt balked, realizing that he’d voiced his thoughts aloud. They shared an awkward glance before breaking out into a fit of giggles or, in Newt’s case, something between a chuckle and an uncomfortable cough. As the sounds faded, Tina stood, grabbed her coat from the nearby rack, and took Newt’s hand, determined to treat him to lunch. The magizoologist stumbled after her, elated that she’d guessed his request but also frustrated that he wasn’t able to ask her himself. Tina, on the other hand, sighed with relief, a long lunch with Newt was far more enjoyable than those ridiculous reports. Perhaps she’d lose track of time and return in two hours, rather than one.


	13. XII: Memoriae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: Someone has bought a copy of your memories

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you!”

Jacob Kowalski let out a rather loud, high-pitched yelp and stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the worn leather tome in his grasp. He quickly reached out to steady himself but tumbled to the ground when his fingers met a rickety set of shelves. His failure to stay upright resounded throughout the small bookstore with a cacophonous  _crash_! A cloud of dust and parchment swirled around him as he tried to stand. As he did so, Jacob found himself nose to nose with someone he didn’t expect.

A young woman stood before him, her hands planted firmly on her hips, toe tapping the floor in a steady, impatient rhythm. As he slowly met her gaze, he noted the hard line of her lips and a strangely familiar twinkle in her eyes. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Why was it that whenever he was minding his own business, someone just  _had_ to scare the living daylights out of him?

“I-I’m so sorry, miss,” he stuttered, trying not to look at the mess at his feet. “You startled me and I didn’t mean to--”

“Where in the world did you get that?” she interrupted, eyes narrowing as she pointed sharply at the book in his hand.

He glanced at the book and scratched his head. “Well, uh, I bought it.”

“You bought it,” she repeated, raising a hand to her lips. “Now? Here?”

Jacob nodded in response, utterly lost as the woman’s attention flitted between his face and the book. Why was this beat up, old thing so important? Perhaps she wanted to buy it, too? After all, the shop owner mentioned that this was the only one of its kind. His concern grew as a tear slid down her cheek and she hastily raised a hand to brush it away.

“Oh now, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently placing his other hand on her arm and offering her the book. “If you want it that badly you can have it. I can always find somethin’ else to read.”

To his surprise, she shook her head and pushed the tome lightly into his chest. “No, it’s all right. It called to you.” She took a step away from him, a bittersweet smile on her face. “Just do one thing for me, will ya?”

He returned her smile, although, for some reason, he felt terribly sad as he did so. “Sure, what’s that?”

“Send the author a review when you’re finished.”

\--

Queenie Goldstein stared down at the box settled comfortably on the dining room table, desperately trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Damn that she couldn’t see through parchment as easily as she could read minds! With trembling hands, she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled between several sheets of wax paper, was a pastry shaped like Frank the Thunderbird. What held her attention, however, was the small card tucked between his jaws with one line written across it in dark-blue ink:

“I remember you.”


	14. XIII: Caught Red-Handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: Whatever you write your name on is yours.

Porpentina Goldstein was furious.

“Merlin have mercy on your soul, Newton Scamander!” she bellowed, brandishing her wand at her wide-eyed fiance. In her other hand, she held aloft a long length of ivory fabric covered in intricate gold embroidery. “How could you?!”

“T-Tina, please,” Newt pleaded, spreading his hands before him in supplication. “I didn’t mean to, love! Really I didn’t!”

She scoffed, inching ever closer to the terrified wizard. “I find that terribly hard to believe! You know how much  _that_  meant to me! You’re the only one who knew where it was!”

Newt felt a torrent of blood rush to his cheeks. She was right. He was the only one who knew where  _it_  was hidden. His brilliant girl had made sure of that. Every possible reason for this travesty pointed to him, and yet, he couldn’t remember a thing about it!

“Tina, please,”he said again. “Give me a little time to sort this out.”

“Sort it out?!” she cried, running her hands through her already ruffled hair. “We’ve got less than two hours before they get here!” With a frustrated huff, she plopped into Newt’s favorite armchair and clutched the fabric to her chest, trying desperately to calm herself. She hadn’t been this upset with him since his idiotic stint in New York with the unlatched case of beasts several years ago. Angry tears pricked at her eyes and she hastily wiped them away. “Damn it, Newt,” she grumbled. “This veil cost me the last of my savings...”

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, he knelt before the distraught witch and took the veil in his hands. “I  _will_  sort this out, dearest. And with more than enough time to spare.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I promise.”

\--

Newt sat at his work bench, peering closely at the edge of the ivory veil. There, stamped in bright red ink, was his name -  _Newton A.F. Scamander_. After a rather catastrophic mishap at the International Wizarding Conference, every article labelled with the name of a witch or wizard was solely bound to them. Ownership could not be transferred or changed, and any attempt to do so resulted in disastrous consequences.

“How did you get on there?” he murmured, fingering the delicate material and racking his brain for any explanation. A light twittering interrupted his thoughts. “Ah, Pickett!” he exclaimed, offering his hand to the bowtruckle as he climbed out of his pocket. “You’re awake! I could use a helping hand.”

Pickett nodded and slowly climbed down Newt’s wrist to the table top. Almost immediately, the spindly creature began hopping up and down, gesturing wildly to a rather large rubber stamp. It was a congratulatory gift from Professor Dumbledore after his manuscript was published (and a rather expensive one at that!)

Newt balked. How could he have missed it? “Of course! My stamp!” He turned it over, smearing a bit of red ink onto his fingers and the gold filigree of the handle. “But I haven’t used this is ages. How…”

Suddenly, it dawned on him.

“That dirty, conniving little thief!” he cried, bringing the stamp up to his eyes for closer inspection. “Ah ha!” There, as he predicted, was a cluster of tiny red paw prints. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, Newt pocketed the stamp and the bowtruckle. “C’mon, Pick,” he declared, striding through the shed door. “He's got some explaining to do!”

\--

“Oh where is he?” Tina groaned, biting her lip. More than an hour had passed since Newt disappeared into the case and a majority of the guests had already arrived.

“Teenie, is everythin’ okay?”

Tina quickly schooled her face into a joyous expression as she turned to her sister. “Absolutely,” she said through gritted teeth. “Everything’s perfect! And look at you! You are radiant!” As she spoke the last line, Tina struggled to stave off a river of tears. “Mama and Pop would be so proud, Queenie!”

The youngest Goldstein sister smiled, tears stinging her own eyes. “Don’t you dare, Porpentina,” she sniffed. “Don’t you try and distract me!”

“Not to worry! She won’t need to do anything of the sort.” Newt ambled into the room, a long length of fabric draped across his arms. “And here is the  _pièce de résistance_!”

“Oh!” Queenie breathed, taking it in her hands. “This...this is…”

“Beautiful,” Tina finished. She looked from the veil to her beloved in utter disbelief. Newt had presented the bride with a waterfall of golden lace, the edges trimmed with silver, with not a drop of red ink to be seen.

As Queenie fastened the veil to her curls, Newt raised his wand and whispered a spell. The sisters looked at him in confusion and he chuckled. “I’ve made sure no one can take this from you, Queenie.” He smiled as she trailed her fingers along the silver trim, tracing the letters of her married name in awe.

A few heartbeats later, Tina and Newt stood side by side, waiting for the ceremony to officially begin.

“Newt,” Tina whispered, squeezing his arm.”Where in the name of Deliverance Dane did you find that veil?”

“Ah, well,” he said, bringing her fingers to his lips. “Let’s just say we have Niffler to thank when we get home.”


End file.
